Trust
by dollsom
Summary: I've been watching my season 1&2 DVDs, and I thought, What if Giles and Jenny had met before Sunnydale? The year is 1985, on the night of Giles' 30th birthday when he saves a mysterious American girl from a vampire attack...
1. Meeting in a Dark Alley

**Disclaimer**:Rupert Giles, Jenny Calendar, and Quentin Traversbelong to Joss Whedon, I just take extensive liberties with them. The other characters are mine. No one makes any money from this.

**Trust**

**Chapter One  
Meeting in a Dark Alley**

_1985- London, England_

Rupert Giles was walking home from the Watcher's Council the on the night of his thirtieth birthday. No one knew that it was his birthday, because he hadn't told anyone about it. It made him feel old.

Lately he was just feeling generally out-of sorts. He used to think that he was pretty happy with his life, working at the museum during the day and at the Council at night. It seemed like an eternity had passed since he returned to the Council, in his early twenties, after years of rebelling against it. Those had been dangerous years.

_Don't think about that, it's in the past. Nothing to be done._

At first he had thrown himself into his work just to forget about what happened, and as a way of making up for the mistakes he made. Then he gradually found himself enjoying it, even if he still felt an occasional pang of surprise at how uptight some of the other Watchers were. Although, that had been happening less and less.

_I suppose I'm becoming one of them._

He smiled ruefully to himself. Now he was thirty, walking home to an empty apartment. Looking at his life, it suddenly seemed to be going nowhere, that he had reached a dead end. He suppressed any feeling of restlessness; he had no right to feel restless, it just made him do mad things. Still…

_I just wish something would change._

It was then that he saw her, exiting a nightclub across the street with a young man. Giles stopped and watched them; the man gave him an uneasy feeling. They walked into an alleyway, and Giles' suspicions were confirmed when, a moment later, he heard a strangled cry.

He ran across the street into the alley to see the vampire leaning over the girl, about to bite. Without hesitation, Giles pulled a wooden stake out of his jacket pocket and plunged it through the vampire's heart.  
The vampire turned to dust, revealing the girl it had been hunched over, who was pale and wide-eyed with fear.

"You should get home," Giles said calmly, replacing his stake.

Most girls, under the circumstance, would have taken his advice and run off. This one acted as though he hadn't said anything at all.

"Who are you?" she asked curiously, speaking with an American accent.

Giles was taken off guard. "It-it doesn't matter. You just get somewhere safe."

"No, who are you?" she persisted, "How did you know that was a vampire?"

He looked at her suspiciously. "What do you know about vampires?"

"Probably not as much as you do. I didn't recognize that one." She looked him over. "Are you a Watcher?"

Giles' jaw dropped. "How… what…?"

"You couldn't fit the part more if you had a neon sign over you head." The corners of her lips were now creeping up into a wry smile.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I'm Jenny."

"Jenny?"

"Just Jenny, yes."

"How do you know about-"

"Do we have to talk here?"

Giles realized that a dark alley probably wasn't the best place to question the girl. "Come with me."

He chose a nearby all-night coffee shop/diner for their interview. He ordered a tea and offered to get the girl Jenny something too. When she ordered fish and chips, soup, a bread roll, a large coffee, and two doughnuts, Giles was about to protest; however, looking at her in the harsh light of the diner, he realized that she probably didn't eat regularly, and kept silent.

They sat in a booth by the near the back. Giles didn't say anything at first, and instead watched her as she ate, taking in her appearance for the first time. She really was quite striking looking, with thick black hair and large dark eyes. She looked almost exotic, although she couldn't have been any older than twenty, and her outfit – a black vinyl mini-skirt, skimpy halter top and heavy make-up- cheapened her look.

It was Jenny who spoke first. "I never met anyone else who knows about vampires and magic and  
stuff before," she remarked conversationally.

"Well, generally we try to keep it a secret." Giles cast his eyes around, making sure that no one heard her.

"Oh, sorry," she said, lowering her voice.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"It's kinda my thing." She shrugged. "I'm into the occult."

That response worried Giles. "Most people who are into the occult' don't realize how serious it is. They don't even believe in half the things that are out there."

"Well I do. I know what it's about."

He had a feeling Jenny wasn't telling him something. "And you're not a witch?"

"No."

"How did you learn about these things then?"

She shrugged.

"I'm not going to turn you into the Council if you tell me."

"I'm nothing, okay? I just have a recreational interest," she said, her attention abnormally focused on her soup.

"Why are you here?" he said, changing his angle of interrogation.

"Cuz you saved my life and wanted to know how I got in on your secret."

"I mean, why are you in London?" he said, not without a hint of exasperation.

"I live here."

"But you obviously weren't born here."

"I got sick of American life."

"So you came to England?"

"Well, I didn't want to learn another language, and Canada is kinda boring."

"And your family was alright with this?"

"What does my family have to do with anything?" she replied, and Giles was surprised at her angry tone. He had clearly hit a nerve.

"I'm sorry. You just seem somewhat young to be moving to another country."

"I'm twenty-four," she said defensively.

He couldn't keep himself from smiling. "No you're not."

"No one ever believes me, but I am!"

She was getting upset. Giles didn't want to push it. "If you say so." He took a sip of tea. "So, you're not currently involved in anything supernatural?"

"You sound disappointed," she said, a faint smile creeping up her lips again.

"Well, er, you know, professional interest, and all."

"Mm." She leaned forward over the table conspiratorially. "Although, if you had anything supernatural for me to get involved in, I'm open."

Giles blinked, taken aback. "I… I think not."

She leaned back again. "Suite yourself. Anyways, am I ever going to learn the name of the man to whom I owe my life?"

He relaxed a bit. "It's Rupert Giles."

They talked at the coffee shop for about an hour. Jenny said that she had been in England for about a month, and that she worked at a dance studio, as an instructor. Giles told her about his job at the museum, where he worked as assistant curator. They talked about life in London. Giles made a few attempts at asking her what it was like where she was from, but she seemed to want to avoid the subject altogether. Finally, Jenny finished her meal.

"Seeing as it's so dark out," she said, "and the streets, as they are, filled with vampires and other desperate characters, would you mind seeing a young girl to her door?"

"Not at all."

Jenny's apartment was in a run-down part of town. Giles would not have been surprised if he saw a bombed-out shell of a building that had been left since the blitz.

"Are you safe living here?" he asked, as she stood outside her door, searching for her keys, and it crossed his mind that he felt disproportionately concerned about her, considering they had met only a couple of hours ago.

"Nothing's happened to me yet." Her reply did nothing to assuage Giles' worries.

She found her keys, and unlocked her door. But before she entered her apartment, Jenny turned to him, and in a tone of unexpected sincerity said, "Thank you, for everything."

Giles shrugged sheepishly.

She continued, "I guess you could probably tell that I wasn't being completely honest about everything tonight. I'm not going to be. But I want you to know, whatever impression I gave, I really do appreciate what you've done."

Giles was speechless for a moment. "I-I-I c-couldn't have acted differently-

"Still, thank you." And she disappeared into her apartment.

Giles stood in front of the door, puzzled, until it occurred to him that standing around in such a neighbourhood late at night was probably not the safest pastime.

_One doesn't often meet girls like that._ He thought as he made his way home. _I wonder what she's got herself involved in. I hope it's nothing dangerous, she really is far too young… living on her own in that part of town… when I was that age… Still, she seems fairly capable of handling herself. She's certainly not lacking in confidence. Just so long as she doesn't run across any more vampires…_

In truth , Giles was beginning to feel strangely fond of her already. In fact, he might have felt a new sense of emptiness for having left her, had it not been for the odd notion that he had not seen the last of Jenny.


	2. At the Museum

**Chapter Two  
At the Museum**

It was about a week later when he saw her again.Giles was going over the inventory for the new exhibit, while enduring his boss - the head curator of the museum, Mr. Harrington - prattling about his latest conquest, some society bird he managed to bed the other night It was actually Harrington who saw her first.

"Hello… what have we here?"

Giles looked up from his clipboard and followed Harrington's gaze to see a young, dark-haired woman, dressed quite professionally in a flowy blouse and dark skirt. To Giles' dismay, she was picking up and examining some of the newly arrived artefacts. Then he realized it was Jenny.

"Oh, for God's sake…" he muttered, and strode towards her. "The public isn't allowed back here." He said, while prying an aged crossbow away from her.

"This is where they told me I'd find you. I have to talk to you."

Giles noticed Harrington was keeping a close eye on them. "Well, make it fast, unless you want me to be in trouble."

"I lost my job."

"What?"

"The studio couldn't afford me anymore."

"No, I understand that. But why are you here?"

"Because I don't know anyone else who could help me find a job."

"Well, have you tried looking in the want ads?"

"I can't get a job that way."

"Why not?"

"Because." Jenny looked away, somewhat abashed.

"Because?"

"Well… because… well, I… I don't have a work visa."

"What?" Giles could not believe that anybody would be so scatterbrained as to not get a work visa before moving to a different country. "Why not?"

"It's a long story. But I was lucky with the dance studio, and they paid me under the table. I haven't been able to find another job that pays enough where they'd do that." She looked at him imploringly. "You have to help me, I don't know anyone else in London."

Later, Giles would insist that he would have said yes to her plea, had he been given the chance. He would be telling the truth, as Jenny's doe-eyed look was giving him an unfamiliar clenching sensation in his stomach. However, it was just at that moment that Harrington chose to interrupt.

"Excuse me, but I couldn't help overhearing." A look of fear passed over Jenny's face. "I think I can help you."

"You do?" Jenny asked, surprised.

"Allow me to introduce myself: Zachary Harrington, curator of this museum." He flashed a dazzling smile, which Jenny was quick to reciprocate, much to Giles' chagrin.

"I'm Jenny."

"Charming." He took her hand, and continued, "If you'd come with me I can take you to human resources now, and we'll see if we can work something out."

"Sounds great."

The two of them walked off, leaving Giles to wonder what the hell had just happened.

Giles spent the next two hours estimating how long it should have taken them to find Jenny a job, while trying not to think about what else they could be doing that was taking so long. Finally he heard  
the sound of their voices approaching, and he tried to look busy.

"Are you sure about lunch?" Harrington was saying.

"I really can't. I have a date I don't want to miss. Maybe some other time?"

"I'll be sure to take you up on that." They stepped into the room. "How's the inventory coming?" Harrington asked.

"Fine," Giles replied, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

"You know I'd continue to work on it, but I hadn't realized how much paper work was piling up on my desk. I really should get back to my office to work on it."

"You mean to work on your secretary," Giles muttered under his breath.

"Pardon me?"

"I said it's almost done anyways."

"That's excellent then! Still, feel free to call me if you need any help."

Harrington missed Giles' glare as he had turned his attention back to Jenny.

"You don't mind if I leave you where I found you?"

"Not at all."

"Until tomorrow, then." Harrington took Jenny's hand in his and kissed it. "Goodbye."

"Bye." Jenny watched him walk away.

"Slimy git," Giles muttered.

"Can you believe I got a job?" Jenny exclaimed, as she practically bounded over to where Giles was working. "I'm going to be a hostess for the VIP tours. Zack said I was just the type to make guests feel  
comfortable enough here so they'd want to return."

"Mm hm," Giles said as he pretended to be engrossed in his work.

Jenny was silent for a bit, as if she was expecting Giles to say more. He didn't so she went on. "It's lucky for me you have such a nice boss."

Giles couldn't keep silent any longer. "You do realize that the only reason he gave you that job is because he wants to sleep with you."

Jenny made a noise of shock and disgust. "You're just saying that because he's charming and dashing and not all business like you. Just because he's helpful doesn't mean he has a hidden agenda.  
Mr. did you check the want ads?'"

Giles was speechless with indignation. After all, he _had_ saved her life! He wanted to say something cutting and reproachful, but all he could manage was an icy, "Shouldn't you be leaving soon?"

"What? Why?"

"I wouldn't want you to be late for your date," he answered a bit more bitterly than he had intended.

Jenny laughed. "That's you, silly!"

Giles blinked in confusion.

"I have to celebrate my new job with someone. Even if you do think it was given to me for underhanded reasons." If it was possible, her eyes grew larger as she looked at Giles pleadingly, and he felt his stomach clench again. He also felt something suspiciously like his heart melting, followed by a flood of confusion. What did she mean, bursting in on him at work, begging him for help, flirting with his boss, and then looking at him with those great dark exotic eyes of hers? He had a niggling feeling that the girl was simply being opportunistic.

"If you're so eager to celebrate, I wonder that you didn't go out with your hero, 'Zack'." Giles didn't even try to keep the bitterness out of his voice this time. He turned back to his inventory list, and strode off to the other side of the room to open the last box. He thought Jenny would leave, but he heard her steps as she followed him slowly across the room. He pretended not to notice as she leaned against the table at which he was working and surveyed him for a few seconds before speaking.

"Maybe," she said slowly and softly, "I would rather spend time with you."

Giles paused and looked at her. She was smiling softly at him, her eyes half-hidden by her thick eyelashes. He was certain that what he was feeling was his heart melting. "I-I-I, I don't get off, uh, off work for another… another hour," he heard himself stammer. _Dammit_, he thought to himself, _She had you worrying about her last week, now she's got you seething with jealousy one moment, and stammering like a bloody fool the next. Face it, Giles, she's got you. _

_No,_ another part of his brain answered. _I'm not getting involved with anyone. Besides, she's just a girl. She doesn't know what she's doing in this city. She could get mixed up with anyone... with someone like Harrington... I'm just being... protective. She needs someone to look out for her..._

Jenny was smiling sweetly, as if she found something about Giles endearingly amusing. "Come on, you must be bored to death around here. Can't you skip out early just this once?"

He watched her smiling at him, and everything Giles was thinking faded away. "I suppose so."

"Great! Let's go!"


	3. Not a Date

**Chapter Three  
Not a Date**

Giles chose one of his favourite restaurants in the area – smallish but stylishly decorated and of course, five-star. He felt that this outing called for something a little more upscale – heaven knows why; he wasn't fooling himself for a minute that this was something resembling a date, and he certainly wasn't trying to impress the girl. Jenny had said she wanted to celebrate, after all, and this was simply the best place he could think of to do just that.

Jenny paused before entering, looking skeptically at the menu posted by the door.

"Is something the matter?" Giles asked.

"Oh, you know, I just don't feel like going broke over a soup and sandwich right now," she answered.

"Well, uh, consider it my congratulations gift to you."

"Really?"

He nodded in reply.

"Okay, I don't need to be asked twice." And Jenny led the way in.

* * *

She watched as Janna entered the restaurant across the street with the gadje. This was just the latest in a string of events that saddened her, seeing a daughter of the clan deny her people and her duty to them. 

_Well. The prodigal child shall be chastised. She will never again forget that her place is with her people._

But it was not her role to carry out that punishment; she was merely summoned by the clan to bring Janna home.

She crossed the street and went into the restaurant, keeping her eyes on Janna and the gadje as they sat down. But she was distracted. The woman at the table next to them had been wronged, she could feel it.

_It won't hurt to have a little fun._

* * *

"Next time, it's my treat, okay?" Jenny said as they took a table by the window. 

"That's alright, you don't –"

"What, are you trying to avoid going out with me again?"

Giles stammered incoherently for a couple of seconds before saying, "n-no, of-of course n-"

"Then next time, it's my treat."

"If-if you insist."

"I do." Jenny smiled. "You name the place, though, cuz I still don't know my way around this town."

Giles was suddenly struck with what seemed like a brilliant idea. "Well, if-if you like, I-I-I could, uh, always show you around London sometime. A-a kind of tour." And it immediately didn't seem so brilliant anymore. But why was he so nervous? It wasn't as if he was asking her out on a _date_. Yet her blank expression continued to wreak havoc with his self-confidence.

After a moment that seemed to stretch out entirely too long, Jenny answered. "That," she smiled, "would be perfect."

Giles smiled back, unusually relieved that she had agreed. He already started going over the places he would take her in his mind.

"This Saturday?" She asked.

Giles nodded.

"Great, it's a date." When Jenny said those words, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. _Not a date-date, of course. Just an-an outing. Calm down, for heaven's sake!_

The waiter came by and they ordered, Giles asking for the cheque at the same time.

"In a hurry to get out of here?" Jenny commented, a defensive note creeping into her voice that Giles failed to pick up on.

"My lunch break is only an hour."

"You're the assistant curator, you can take time for dessert if you want."

"Still, I don't want to be away for too long."

"Why? The place isn't going to burn down if you're not there."

"With Harrington in charge?" Giles scoffed. "I wouldn't bank on it."

Jenny looked at him incredulously. "Why don't you loosen up? Weren't you ever, y'know, young and carefree?"

Giles' insides quickly turned to lead. _See? There you are. That's how she sees you, stodgy and old. And isn't that how you want to be? Isn't it better that way?_

"A long time ago," he answered dryly.

She continued, "I mean, you're how old? Thirty-five, thirty-six?" Giles cringed inwardly as his expression hardened, and Jenny went on, "You should still be out having fun, not spending as much time as possible shut up in that museum. It's full of dead stuff, like a crypt." She gave a little laugh. "But I guess, being a Watcher, that's kinda your thing, huh?" Her good-natured smile was, at this point, lost on Giles.

"You should be careful not to let 'Zack' hear you say anything like that about your new workplace," he said, as his voice took on the same defensive tone that he had missed in Jenny's, with an extra shot of bitterness.

"I won't," Jenny replied, now on guard. "Unlike you, some people actually know how to get along with other people."

"Like you were getting along with that vampire," he shot back sarcastically. "Oh, yes, those are some brilliant people skills you have."

Jenny narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you so uptight?"

Giles was taken aback that she thought there was a reason for his attitude. She was right, but he could never, ever tell her why he was how he was, he never talked about that with anybody. "There is no 'why'," he said. "I simply enjoy pursuits that are more intellectual than gyrating in nightclubs." Giles had no difficulty seeing that now Jenny was _really_ offended, and he ignored the part of himself that cared.

"Yeah, I bet you were born this way. I'd bet that you've never done a single independent, spontaneous thing in your life."

"You don't even know me."

"Then go ahead, prove me wrong. Tell me what you've done with your life that's so exciting."

Giles just glared at her, his anger hiding the fact that he was flummoxed and had no idea how to answer.

"You know, I wish you'd tell me your deepest, darkest secret, and then you'd see that I'm right."

In the silence between them, Giles could hear the clink of cutlery and the laughter of a woman at a nearby table. Some feeling was welling up inside him, desperate to prove Jenny wrong. Against his better judgement, even against his will, he started talking.

"When I was twenty I was… 'into the occult' as you might say." Giles felt a bitter smile twisting his lips. "I didn't want to be a Watcher. I didn't care about much of anything. I dropped out of university and my friends and I meddled in magicks and demon possession. For the high." He noticed Jenny's eyes widen with surprise. "Then things went too far, we lost control. One of my friends was killed." As soon as he finished, the part of him that wanted to shock and impress Jenny quickly disappeared, and he was left feeling sorry he had said anything at all. Jenny was studying Giles as if seeing him for the first time. He expected her to make a flimsy excuse and walk out on him then and there. She didn't, so he went on, "I went back to the Council and accepted my fate. I do take it very seriously. They helped me gain my position at the museum, so I take that very seriously as well. I have a duty to perform, and that must always come first; I can't escape it." He waited for Jenny to make a pronouncement on his story, but she just kept staring at him, and said nothing. He found he couldn't quite bring himself to look her in the face. Luckily, it was at that moment that their meal arrived.

After a few minutes of eating in silence, during which Giles did not do much eating, Jenny spoke. "But, even if you do have a-a duty to perform, you don't have to let it define you. You can have a life and do other things." She didn't look him in the eye, and her voice was strangely forceful.

Giles was somewhat surprised at the part of his story that Jenny took issue with, and at the same time somewhat relieved. Seeing that his confession hadn't wrought too much damage to Jenny's opinion of him, it occurred to Giles that, having revealed something of himself, he might have the opportunity to learn something about the girl, to unravel her mystery. He answered her smoothly and easily, "Why not? It's who I am."

"But you're letting the entire course of your life be determined by outside forces."

"I chose this path."

"Only because you're running from what happened."

"Maybe so." He continued without missing a beat, "What are you running from?"

Jenny stared at him in silence for a very weighty moment. Giles could hear the couple at the table behind him fighting with each other, struggling to keep their voice at a respectable level, and the nearby woman laughing again.

"Nothing," Jenny said blankly.

_She doesn't mean nothing. She means that she's not going to tell me._

He continued watching her, willing her to change her mind and tell him. He watched as her gaze drifted over his shoulder, and an expression of shock came over her face.

"Jenny, what- ?"

As he turned to see what she was looking at, Giles heard her say, "That man just turned into a dog."

Sure enough, Giles saw a greyhound sitting at the table across from a very surprised looking woman. A waiter rushed over to speak with the woman.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, madam. There are no animals allowed in this establishment."

The dog whimpered.


	4. Exposition by an original character

**Chapter Four  
Exposition by an Original Character**

For someone who had recovered from a vampire attack so easily, Jenny was surprisingly distressed over the transformation at the restaurant. As she walked back to the museum with Giles, their conversation was taken up with the subject of what might have caused the man to turn into a racing dog, their previous spat apparently forgotten. Jenny was adamant that it was witchcraft, while Giles insisted that there were other possibilities. He actually enjoyed their debate – he had never known anyone outside of the narrow sphere of the Watcher's Council that he could discuss such things with before. He was relieved that Jenny confirmed that they would meet on Saturday before he went back to work, and immediately annoyed with himself that he was so relieved.

* * *

By the end of the week, Giles was quite worn out. New exhibits, like the one of medieval weaponry he was working on now, always required him to work overtime. And since he had been the one to witness the incident at the restaurant, he was assigned by the Council to investigate it, but had come up with nothing. There was no evidence that anyone connected to the man was a witch, and no other notable demonic activity in the city. 

Normally, Giles would be looking forward to a nice, quiet, relaxing Saturday, during which he could have enjoyed a much-needed rest. Instead, he was looking forward to his promised tour of London with Jenny with uncharacteristic anticipation. Giles often found his thoughts drifting to Jenny, imagining what might happen on Saturday, as was happening at that moment, when he was supposed to be directing the assembly of a display of maces. He had just forced his attention back to the matter at hand when he was distracted by Jenny's voice.

"Excuse me, sir, but the general public isn't allowed in here."

Giles turned to see Jenny speaking with a rather surprised looking man. He was shorter than average, and somewhat pudgy, with prematurely thinning blonde hair, and pale, staring, child-like eyes, wearing a tweed suit with a waistcoat that was an unpleasant shade of rust and a garish, iridescent plum tie. He had apparently been walking over to Giles when Jenny had stopped him.

"That's alright, he's not the general public," said Giles, striding over while looking at Jenny incredulously. After all, she had had no compunction about walking in before. "Jenny, this is Rodger Omphroy. He actually lent us a large number of the artifacts for this exhibit. Rodger, this is Jenny – um… Jenny."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize –"

"Not to worry, not to worry," interrupted Rodger genially, smiling at Jenny. "And I must say, you did a lovely job leading the tour. It's been a long time since I've been here and I'd forgotten how many wonderful things you have."

Jenny had just completed her first day on the job after her training. Giles had caught glimpses of her during the day and from what he saw she was doing well, likely due to the fact that Harrington had taken it upon himself to train her: a questionable use of the curator's time, in Giles' opinion. But, as much as he thought Harrington was an ass, he had to admit that he knew the museum better than anybody.

"What are you doing here, if you don't mind my asking?" said Giles. "I thought you were doing research in America?"

"So I was, so I was! However, the, er, subject of my research quite suddenly packed up and skipped across the pond to London, and I gave chase."

"That's rather odd for the demon Mativya, isn't it?" said Giles conversationally. He saw Rodger cast a furtive glance at Jenny, and realized that Rodger must have thought he was being rather careless. "Oh, that's alright, she knows," Giles explained, although he noticed that Jenny had looked very surprised at the mention of the demon.

"Oh, really? Tell me, what is your connection to the occult?" Rodger asked eagerly.

Giles noticed Jenny's discomfort and interrupted pre-emptively, "Recreational interest." He continued, "I take it you've come here to ask what resources the Council can lend you?"

"You're not a Watcher?" Jenny asked.

"I, a Watcher?" Rodger replied, as though the mere thought was cause for great amusement. "Oh, dear me, no. Nearly everyone in my family is, mind you. Hence I too have what you would call a 'recreational interest' in the forces of darkness; strictly academic, of course. While our dear friends at the Watcher's Council are bent on training Slayers and tracking down demons to kill them, I seek to study and understand them. Most at the Council consider me somewhat mad."

Giles tried to convey to Jenny with a look that he was not an exception to this rule. While Rodger was a friend of his -a hanger-on of the Council who had been the only person connected with the institution to treat him with an ounce of civility immediately after his post-rebellion return -and Giles tolerated his studies, he by no account approved of them. Giles did have to admit that Rodger had a knack for coming up with new and useful bits of information that couldn't be found in any book, though.

Rodger was still speaking. "At any rate, I just wanted to check in with you to inquire as to whether anything odd has occurred as of late."

"A man transformed into a dog a couple of days ago –"

"But that was witchcraft, wasn't it? Didn't we agree that a witch did it?" Jenny cut in, sounding rather anxious.

"It could very well be the demon," said Rodger, "Although it would qualify as one of its tamer exploits. Like other vengeance demons, it would act on the wishes of those who were wronged –"

"Yes, of course!" Giles interrupted excitedly. It was as though a light had switched on inside his head. "The man was fighting with a woman, I over heard them. The woman wished that the man was one of the dogs he was always betting on. Excellent, I'll have something to report to the Council tonight." Giles was so caught up that he did not notice Jenny's growing agitation with their discussion, although he was beginning to suspect why he had so willingly divulged his past to her - hadn't she wished that he would tell her his darkest secret? His good mood was cut short, however, by the sound of Harrington's voice.

"Jenny! There you are, I've been looking for you. I hope Giles hasn't been boring you too much."

"What? Oh, no, we were just-" Jenny, who seemed to be taken off-guard, gestured towards Rodger.

"Omphroy!" Harrington exclaimed upon recognizing the patron. "I didn't realize you were back in London. As you can see, everything is progressing well with the exhibit. Thank you once again for lending us your collection."

"Not at all, not at all!"

"Well, now that you're back in town, you must come to our summer gala! All our donors and patrons will be there, the best of London society, only £100 a plate. As your exhibit will be one of the ones we're debuting, I assume I can put you down for two?" Harrington pitched with a wide grin. His charm made him a valuable advocate for the museum and Giles despised him for it. He rolled his eyes. Jenny smirked at him. Giles gave her a mock-contemptuous glare, which she raised an eyebrow at, forcing him to smile. She smiled good-humouredly back.

Rodger had just agreed to purchase two plates at the charity gala, and Harrington was quite pleased. "Splendid!" he proclaimed. "Well, it's been nice chatting with you, Omphroy, but I must be going now; Jenny and I have reservations for dinner."

Jenny broke from Giles' gaze to turn to Harrington. "Do we?"

"Did I forget to tell you? Yes, for 8 o'clock. One normally can't get in on a Friday night without booking weeks in advance, but the owner is a personal friend of mine. The finest restaurant in town, all the papers agree. I thought you might enjoy it, being new to the city and all."

Giles watched as Jenny's look of surprise changed into one of sheer delight, and was suddenly overcome by the feeling that he was losing ground in a battle. Harrington offered Jenny his arm and they were about to walk off together, when Giles blurted out, "So, we're still on for tomorrow, then?"

Jenny looked over her shoulder. "Yeah, sure, meet me at ten."

Giles nodded and watched the pair leave, feeling somewhat deflated.

"Dapper fellow, that Harrington," said Rodger. "Excellent asset to the museum, as far as fundraising is concerned."

"Yes, I suppose so," mumbled Giles, shaking himself mentally and checking his watch. He walked back to the workers setting up the display and dismissed them for the day.

"If it were me, I certainly wouldn't let him take my girlfriend out," Rodger commented casually.

"Mm, no. What?"

"That Jenny girl. She seems charming and all, but I think you may be putting too much faith in her ability to withstand Harrington's advances."

"Wha-?" Giles looked at Rodger askance for a moment before understanding what he was saying. "Oh. Oh, no." He would have been amused if it were not for the fact that he _was_ irritated by Jenny going out with Harrington. "Jenny and I, we're not… involved."

"Really? Hm. I thought you were." Rodger shrugged dismissively.

"Yes, you've made that clear."

"Well, I don't know what it was, you just seemed like a couple to me. Until Harrington intervened, of course." Rodger finished with a bit of a laugh.

Giles was getting annoyed, and did his best to ignore his friend's musings as he went around the room, gathering things that he had left lying around over the course of the day. Rodger's observations were hitting a bit too close to home.

"Just as well," Rodger continued, "to tell the truth, she seemed rather odd. Her reaction to the mention of Mativya – strangely defensive. You said she was there with you when the man was transformed?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well, as you know these vengeance demons take human form until they strike…"

Giles glared coldly at Rodger. "What are you suggesting?"

"She fits Mativya's description: young woman, dark eyes and hair, rather stunning looking –"

"She was with me the entire time," Giles said irritably.

"Oh, I see." Rodger paused to think. "Still, her reaction was odd… this Mativya isn't like other vengeance demons you know. She's one of D'Hoffryn's favourites, much more powerful than her kin, doesn't require an amulet. She doesn't even have a specific cause, as most of her kind does; she simply wreaks vengeance for the sake of it. For all we know, she might be able to act without revealing her true form –"

"This is ridiculous," Giles scoffed as he stalked to the other side of the room, in search of his case.

"Harrington said she was new in town. When did she get here?"

"Just over a month ago, but –"

"That's the same time Mativya arrived!" Rodger exclaimed, as though he won some sort of lottery.

"This whole idea is insane –"

"How do you know?"

"Jenny is not a centuries-old vengeance demon!" Giles' frustration and irritation were quickly becoming out-and-out anger. "She-she's entirely naïve and-and-and vulnerable. She acts confident, but she has no idea of how to look after herself. She's young and vibrant, and-and scared of something in her life – and there is absolutely nothing about her to indicate that she's an ancient creature hell-bent on wreaking vengeance, and I refuse to hear another word about it." Giles was still fuming when he finished, and quickly resumed his search for his briefcase.

"I see," said Rodger with a suppressed smile. "I also see now why I got the impression that Jenny is your girlfriend."

Giles found his briefcase behind a stack of battleaxes, and turned to glare at Rodger. He opened his mouth to reply, but found that he didn't know how.

_No reason to dignify such a ridiculous, unfounded comment with a response._

Summoning what remained of his composure, Giles started to make his way towards exit. "I've had enough of this conversation," he said waspishly, "It's time for me to report to the Council. Goodnight."

"Oh! About the Council –" said Rodger hurriedly, as he followed after Giles, "I'd appreciate it greatly if you didn't say anything to them about Mativya just yet."

Giles stopped in his tracks. He was having a hard time believing the nerve that Rodger had.

"You see," Rodger continued, "I'm afraid the Council will want to go lopping her head off, and I haven't had so much as a chance to meet her as yet, much less interview her as I planned."

Giles stared at Rodger. He considered telling him that he was daft, but he knew his friend had been told that enough times so that it no longer had any impact on him.

Giles narrowed his eyes. "So that's how one kills it, cut off its head?"

"Well, it is a little more complicated than that, but basically – Rupert! Where are you going?" Rodger chased after Giles again.

"To report to the Council." Giles answered coolly.

"Now, don't be unreasonable, old boy! I've been tracking and studying Mativya for the past three years! And not so that you and your colleagues can go off and kill her!"

Giles was holding back the urge to grin.

_Serves Rodger right, the idiot_.

"It is my duty as Watcher –"

"Don't give me that! Rupert… look, I'm sorry about the girl, I won't bring her into it again." Giles stopped and regarded Rodger, who was looking at him imploringly. "Just don't say anything about Mativya."

"They're breathing down my neck at the Council to come up with something." Giles replied honestly.

"I know, I know… can't you just wait one week?"

"If anyone else gets turned into a house pet, I will have to say something."

"I understand." Rodger nodded. "Does that mean you won't –"

Giles sighed. "Not yet."

"There's a good man! Knew I could count on you." Rodger beamed.


	5. Under Pressure

**Chapter Five  
Under Pressure**

"Do you mean to tell me that after several days of research you have yet to determine what mystical force is behind this?"

At the far end of the boardroom table at the Headquarters of the Watchers' Council, Giles shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of Quentin Travers, not to mention every other Watcher at the briefing. Travers was the worst, however. The Head of the Watchers' Council had the ability to cut a man down with a mere glare – part of Giles was certain that he had made a deal with a hell-god for the power and it was only a matter of time before the Council fell into the hands of the Lower Beings.

"N-not precisely. But I-I have a lead."

"Indeed? What is it?" Travers asked shortly.

"I-I-I believe it might have been a-a vengeance demon."

"Well, now we're getting somewhere. Which one?"

"I, um…" Giles wished that he were experiencing more of an inner struggle than he actually was, that his self-interested side would at least make its presence known. He avoided Travers' eyes and muttered, "I don't know."

Travers harrumphed. "There are sixty-seven known vengeance demons, each with their own unique modus operandi and weaknesses. I suggest that when we're through here you immediately get back to work."

"Yes, of course," Giles mumbled. He stopped listening to the proceedings and glowered at nothing in particular.

"You're a good friend," a soft voice whispered in his ear.

Giles turned towards the woman seated next to him. After he had befriended Rodger, the rest of the Omphroy family had warmed towards Giles as well, Rodger's sister Marlena in particular. The soft blond hair and pale, child-like eyes that ran in her family gave her a kind of ethereal charm that was complimented by her quiet and subtle nature. Indeed, she was so subtle that one would be unable to tell that she did feel particularly warmly towards Giles, unless one had known her for her entire life. Giles had only known her for six years.

"No I'm not," he replied under his breath.

"Don't say that."

"No, if I was a really good friend, I would have beaten some sense into that brother of yours years ago," Giles said bitterly.

Knowing full well that Giles would never do such a thing, and amused at his foul temper, Marlena giggled, drawing stares from around the table.

"I suppose it is too much to ask from some of the present company to maintain a level of decorum befitting the setting," Travers remarked with pointed sarcasm, casting his death-glare on Giles and Marlena.

"Sorry," she said.

They spent the rest of the meeting in silence.

Afterwards, Giles was about to retreat to the Council's extensive library when Travers approached him.

"Rupert," Travers started in a less derogatory tone than the one he had addressed him with during the briefing. "I know you've been distracted lately, but do try to put an effort into this business with the vengeance demon, if that is what it turns out to be." He lowered his voice. "You've been making a great deal of progress here, you must realize. However, that is all the more reason not to allow a trivial incident like this confound you. Your father would have had the matter taken care of in a day. Forty-eight hours at most."

"Yes, well he wasn't the greatest cock-up ever to grace the halls of the Watcher's Council, now, was he?" Giles replied, not without a hint of bitterness.

Travers cast him a disapproving look that fell short of a death-glare. "Don't behave like an adolescent, Rupert."

Giles knew that that was just how he was behaving, and he wasn't proud of it. "I'm sorry."

The older Watcher placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have a great future ahead of you, I can tell. Just get this solved quickly, alright?"

Giles smiled a little and nodded. Such encouragement from Travers was incredibly rare. He smiled back, with that peculiar smile of his that always seemed self-satisfied, no matter what the context, and dropped his arm back to his side.

"Anyways, you're not nearly so bad as some of the new crop we've got coming in from the Academy," Travers said, half-jokingly, his voice back to its normal volume. "You should see the Wyndham-Pryce boy at martial arts –" Travers winced. "It's enough to make me worry for the future of the Council." He allowed himself a little laugh. Giles was partly heartened by the mockery, but still partly sorry for the next generation that would have to endure Travers' unmerciful scrutiny.

_On the other hand, if Wyndham-Pryce is half the pillock his father is, he deserves it._

"Very well, then," Travers clasped his hands behind his back and turned to leave. "Enjoy the night shift."

* * *

The Council library was a cathedral-like room, with two levels of books around the walls, shorter stacks for the most commonly used reference material, and several long study tables. The curtains of the high windows were drawn against the night; desk lamps and the odd chandelier hanging too far up to provide sufficient illumination lit the room. The poor lighting in the library probably contributed to the fact that most Watchers wore glasses by the time they were Giles' age, especially since the younger ones all had day jobs and did their research at night. 

Upon entering the library, Giles found Marlena stacking books on one of the study tables.

"I thought we could find some other demon to blame the greyhound incident on for the time being," she explained as Giles approached her.

"Good idea," he said as he sat down, opening up _Jinn, Vengeance Demons, and Other Wish-Granters_ while Marlena started skimming through _Vengeance as a Mystical Force_.

After several minutes, Marlena shut her book and set it aside. "This one's no use, it's all about gypsies," she said, as she chose _The Children of D'Hoffryn: A Demonic Family Tree_ from the stack.

"Mm," Giles responded. If he had been paying attention to his surroundings at all, he would have noticed Marlena regarding him thoughtfully. However, his thoughts had already drifted from Mativya, to Jenny's strange reaction to her mention, to wondering what Jenny was doing at that moment, now that her dinner with Harrington had probably ended.

"He's right, you know," Marlena said.

"Yes, of course." Giles looked up from his book. "Wha-who?"

Marlena gave him an exasperated look. "Quentin."

"About what?" Giles asked, still confused.

She sighed. "See? There you are."

"Excuse me?"

"About you being distracted."

"Oh. Right. That."

Marlena shook her head and went back to skimming through her book, glancing up at Giles now and then with a hint of worry in her eyes. "You haven't been yourself at all this past week. Is something on your mind?"

"No," Giles answered automatically. _But Marlena's a friend; if there's anyone I can talk to about this…_ "Yes." _I could explain that I've spent the past week worrying about a girl I barely know. And sound like a bloody fool._ "No." He returned to his book as well, but only briefly, as his attention was diverted by the next thing Marlena said.

"It's that girl Jenny, isn't it?" Her voice was somewhat distant.

"What? How –"

"I was speaking with Rodger on the phone before the briefing. He wanted me to make sure you didn't say anything about Mativya, and he told me about your fight." Unlike Giles, Marlena was perfectly capable of dividing her attention between research and conversation.

He was just too frustrated to do that. _First her brother, now her; what's wrong with that family?_ "Honestly, why can't you people leave me alone? I already told him that there's nothing whatsoever between Jenny and I."

"So, that's the problem, then?" She looked up from her book to see Giles at a loss, blinking and trying to form words. If he had known Marlena since she was born, he would have noticed a trace of sadness in her eyes. But he had only known her for six years. "Maybe you should do something about that."


	6. On the Town

**Author's Note:** I have never been to London. All I know about London I learned from movies, novels, and a little from history class. I could have done research for this chapter, but I was lazy. So I'm winging it. All I'm saying is: don't expect a travel diary or anything.

**Chapter Six  
On the Town**

Giles and Marlena finally decided to blame the greyhound incident on Anyanka, patroness of women scorned. From what Giles had overheard, it sounded as though the woman was not so much scorned as royally pissed off at having her bank account gambled away, but Marlena said it was close enough. Giles was too preoccupied with his plans for the next day to argue.

* * *

By the time he left his flat that morning, Giles was uncommonly nervous, and managed to convince himself that the day would turn out to be an utter disaster. 

_She's probably forgotten. Or she's slept in after staying out last night, and won't wake up when I call. Or she might not have come home last night at all –_ he quickly pushed that thought from his mind.

And so, when he reached Jenny's apartment to find her waiting outside for him, Giles smiled in relief.

Jenny grinned back.

* * *

The morning turned out better than Giles could have expected, as what he intended to be a few quick stops at his favourite restaurants, shops, and cultural spots soon became a walking tour of the better part of London. Jenny seemed to want to know everything about the city, and as her interest meant that Giles, as her source of information, was the sole focus of her attention, he didn't complain. 

It was a clear spring day; the air was still cool, but the sky was cloudless, and the sun shone brightly. They talked about everything: the history of the various districts of the city, the people who lived there, what it would be like to live in a swanky townhouse and go shopping in SoHo (although that was mostly Jenny). Giles told anecdotes about when he was a boy visiting the city; like how he used to be afraid of riding the tube because of the noise, but finally overcame the fear by pretending the train was a dragon and he was St. George, even if his father wouldn't allow him to bring a battle-axe with him. He even told Jenny about his first rock concert, although he tended to avoid talking about that period of his life. Any hopes he had that Jenny would share a few stories of her own were disappointed; however, that wasn't much concern to him as she seemed to be enjoying his stories.

As they passed a square lined with street vendors, Jenny stopped to look at some hand-crafted silver jewelry. Her fingers traced the design of a cross pendant that was embedded with amber and garnets. The amber was not high-quality, and the silver was probably an alloy and quick to tarnish, but the design was ornate and gothic, well-balanced and harmonious.

"Do you like it?" Giles asked.

"It reminds me of one my grandmother used to own," Jenny replied, sounding as though her thoughts were far away.

Giles already felt more generous around Jenny than he did with most other people. The fact that Jenny had finally said something about her family decided the matter. He asked the vendor how much the pendant was.

"Twen'y quid fo' th' cross, three pounds ex'ra for a chain."

Jenny protested, "Rupert, don't, really, it's –"

"Do you have a cross?" Giles cut her off, sounding matter-of-fact.

"No, but-"

"Why not this one, then? It will more than likely come in useful."

The vendor looked at Giles askance for this comment, and evidently decided that he needed some help defending his purchase.

"If yeh don' mind my sayin', miss, it'll look right lovely on yeh. An' I'm sure your gen'leman friend here'll be pleased t' see yeh wearin' somethin' he bought yeh. So everybody wins. Now, d'yeh wan' it wrapped?"

"No, that's fine," Jenny answered, taking the necklace and blushing a little.

Jenny was trying to put the necklace on herself, but the screw clasp was proving tricky.

"Do you need help with that?" he asked.

"I… sure." She lifted the hair off the back of her neck, and Giles placed the necklace around her throat and fastened it. He could smell her hair: like ginger and honey.

_I can't believe I just bought her jewelry. Surely that's crossing some sort of line? That's the type of thing one does for one's girlfriend, not… but she is wearing it. That must be a good sign. At any rate, it's for her own protection._

Jenny turned and smiled at him. "Thank you."

* * *

It was four o'clock before they thought to get something to eat. Since Jenny insisted on paying this time, Giles took her to an inexpensive Indian restaurant that was nonetheless very good. 

Afterwards, they went for a boat ride on the Thames. The sun was just beginning to slant in the sky, making the skyline appear golden, gleaming off Jenny's necklace and lighting up her face as she leaned against the railing, watching the city drift by.

"I love it here," she said, her voice near a whisper. "It's so big and alive… you can get lost in it, and no one knows who you are, so you can just be yourself…" She smiled and snuck a sideways glance at Giles. "Now that I say it, it sounds pretty silly."

Giles gazed at her, thinking of the night he met her, of how sensitive she had been about her family and where she came from; thinking that he was beginning to understand… "No, it doesn't."

Jenny's eyes met his, and for a moment he thought he would get lost in them. Then she turned back to the city. "That, and it's really pretty," she said lightly.

"Hm? Oh, yes."

They both watched the passing shoreline.

_"Earth has not anything to show more fair:  
__Dull would he be of soul who could pass by  
__A sight so touching in its majesty:  
__This City now doth, like a garment wear  
__The beauty of the evening; silent, bare,  
__Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie  
__Open unto the fields, and to the sky;  
__All bright and glittering in the smokeless air."_

Giles didn't know what made him say it, the words just came; he didn't even realize that he was reciting aloud at first. It just seemed to fit so perfectly. He thought he must seem incredibly foolish and sentimental.

Jenny turned to him. "That was cool, what was that?"

Or maybe cool. He could live with that. "Wordsworth"

"Quote something else."

"Anything?"

"Say something by Shakespeare," Jenny all but demanded.

"Um..."Without much thought,Giles spouted the first passage that came to mind.

_"Now o'er the one half-world  
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse  
The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates  
Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd murder,  
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,  
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,  
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design  
Moves like a ghost –"_

Then it occurred to him that, perhaps, _Macbeth_ was not the most appropriate selection.

Jenny was staring at him, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly open.

_Damn it, Giles, you really know how to kill a mood._ He looked down at the water. Then he heard Jenny laughing.

"You really are a Watcher through and through, aren't you?" she said, between bursts of laughter.

Giles found himself able to smile back. "I suppose so." As he watched her laughing in the sunlight, once again, he found words escaping his lips as if of their own volition.

_"As an unperfect actor on the stage  
Who with his fear is put besides his part,  
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,  
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart.  
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say  
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,  
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,  
O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might.  
O, let my books be then the eloquence  
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,  
Who plead for love and look for recompense  
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.  
O, learn to read what silent love hath writ:  
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit._

That was Shakespeare too."

He glanced at Jenny. She was watching him, and there was something about the way she looked at him that seemed different, new. It made Giles want to draw her closer, and – no, what was he thinking of? After all, there was nothing between them.

_Although, maybe I should do something about that…_

He took a step towards her.

There was a scream.

* * *

She sat in the on-board restaurant of the tour boat, watching Janna and the gadje through a porthole. The foolish thing thought she was free, she could feel it. 

_She thinks she has escaped, and that the gadje is her friend, as if she could have a friend better than anyone in her clan._

She sneered at her empty bread plate. The situation was starting to disgust her. She could take Janna now, but where would she go? They were on a boat, and the girl could not teleport like she could. The gadje was angering her too.

_How dare he even consider that he could have a place in the life of a daughter of the Kalderash, and draw Janna further away from her own people?_

She would make him pay as well. In that case, she would need to bide her time, and wait for a moment when they were both vulnerable.

_In the meantime…_

* * *

Giles and Jenny looked at each other with identical alarmed expressions, and walked briskly towards the on board restaurant. What they saw there shocked them both. 

A rather severe-looking middle-aged woman was sitting at a single table, her chin resting on the tabletop, as blood soaked through and spread over the white tablecloth. Her arms flailed wildly, and her eyes flooded over with tears of panic and pain. A large nail had been driven through her lips and into the table.

The waitstaff rushed around in a panic, trying to decide who to call first, who knew first aid, and what to do with the rest of the passengers. One was standing by the bloodied table, wailing, "I didn't mean it!"

Giles thought he heard a woman laughing behind him, but when he turned around, no one was there.

* * *

Jenny and Giles decided to walk back to her apartment from the river. It wasn't very far, and the walk would give them both the chance to clear their heads. After several blocks, Giles spoke. 

"I can't believe I let Rodger talk me into keeping the news of Mativya from the Council." He was no longer bound by his promise, that was certain. He would tell the Council what had happened straight away.

"A-are you sure it's her, though?" Jenny said in a worried tone.

"It must be. You heard what the waitress was saying, she must have wished for the woman's mouth to be nailed shut. And I remember that laugh from the restaurant." Giles thought for a moment. "It's more than a mere coincidence that we've witnessed two attacks," he said, giving voice to the thoughts that were racing through his mind.

Jenny's eyes snapped up from where they had been trained on the sidewalk in front of her, to look at Giles with a mixture of fear and suspicion that went unnoticed by him.

"It-it must signify something greater," Giles continued, "that Mativya is widely active throughout the city. If we've managed to catch two attacks, there must have been countless others as well."

Jenny looked away again, guilt replacing the suspicion in her eyes.

"The attacks could have appeared to have been the result of human malice, o-or-or even as accidents, which would explain why the Council hasn't gotten wind of them. I'll need to look up all the, uh, the acts of violence committed over the past month and-and see if any of them form a pattern. Now that I think of it, I believe there was something in the _Times_ the other day about a sudden escalation in violent crime –"

"Can we not talk about this?" Jenny cut in, her voice sounding on-edge.

Giles looked at her – her arms were crossed defensively, and her usually bright face was clouded with worry.

_Naturally, the discussion is troubling for her, she doesn't spend her life confronted with such problems._

"Yes, of course." But Giles couldn't stop himself from voicing the thoughts that were flooding his mind, and a Watcherly enthusiasm overcame him as he shifted towards a less gruesome topic. "Of course, the trouble will be in capturing Mativya. If she's as powerful as Rodger says she is…" Giles stopped to think for a moment.

"Please, if –" Jenny started, but Giles wasn't paying attention, and cut her off.

"If she's so powerful I-I wonder why she left America so, so suddenly? It would have had to have been a rather powerful demon hunter to drive her out, and I hadn't heard of any in the vicinity where she was last sighted." An idea struck him. "Unless Mativya is the one that's after something? That would explain her sudden departure; a-and-and that she really has been keeping her activity down to a minimum." This was a brainwave. Giles was getting excited. "If-if we could find the common denominators between the two incidents, we may find the key to why the demon is here, a-a-and then it would just be a matter of –"

"Shut up!" Giles froze in his tracks to stare at Jenny, who looked more worried and scared even than when he first met her, cowering under a vampire. "Just stop it! Why is it always demons and vampires and monsters with you? Why can't you just be normal?"

Giles blinked. The outburst was unexpected to say the least, especially from someone who declared that she was "into the occult." He had the impression that there was a subtext to which he was not party.

"I don't believe that it's my level of normalcy that's the problem here," he said carefully.

"Don't you?" Jenny replied with a humourless smile, which quickly disappeared.

Giles didn't even try to make sense of that comment, but continued on. "I understand that today's events were upsetting –"

"No you don't! You don't understand anything about me!"

Giles restrained himself from yelling back at her. "Jenny, whatever's bothering you, I can help."

She let out a short, mirthless laugh, but when she spoke Giles could tell that there were tears in her voice, mixed with bitterness and resentment. "No you can't, and you never will."

Giles was getting frustrated. "If you just tell me what it is –"

"I don't want to tell you!" Jenny yelled. "You don't get it. I don't want your help, I don't want you in my life! I just want you to leave me alone!"

Giles just stood and watched, stunned, as Jenny turned and ran the remaining block to her apartment.

* * *

**Full poems (in order):**

"Composed Upon Westminster Bridge" by William Wordsworth (1802)

Earth has not anything to show more fair:  
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by  
A sight so touching in its majesty:  
This City now doth, like a garment wear  
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,  
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie  
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;  
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.  
Never did sun more beautifully steep  
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;  
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!  
The river glideth at his own sweet will:  
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;  
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

_Macbeth_, by William Shakespeare  
Act II, Scene 1

Is this a dagger which I see before me,  
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:--  
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.  
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible  
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but  
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,  
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?  
I see thee yet, in form as palpable  
As this which now I draw.  
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;  
And such an instrument I was to use.  
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,  
Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still;  
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,  
Which was not so before.--There's no such thing:  
It is the bloody business which informs  
Thus to mine eyes.--Now o'er the one half-world  
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse  
The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates  
Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd murder,  
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,  
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,  
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design  
Moves like a ghost.--Thou sure and firm-set earth,  
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear  
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,  
And take the present horror from the time,  
Which now suits with it.--Whiles I threat, he lives;  
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.  
A bell rings.  
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.  
Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell  
That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

Sonnet XXIII by William Shakespeare

As an unperfect actor on the stage  
Who with his fear is put besides his part,  
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,  
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart.  
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say  
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,  
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,  
O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might.  
O, let my books be then the eloquence  
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,  
Who plead for love and look for recompense  
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.  
O, learn to read what silent love hath writ:  
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.


	7. Over Her

**Chapter Seven  
Over Her**

He should have been feeling quite pleased with himself, really. After researching through the rest of the weekend, Giles had managed to discover how to destroy Mativya's power. It had taken an obscure reference in _Vengeance as a Mystical Force_, easily overlooked, to set him on the right path. Due to a footnote that Mativya had a special relationship with the Kalderash clan, he read all he could about the family. After reading several accounts that astonished him with how the gypsies' vendettas were carried through generations with single-minded ruthlessness, Giles found that the Kalderash were the self-appointed guardians of Mativya, keeping her amulet safe from harm. In the Twentieth century, the family had split up around the world, and they started passing the amulet between family heads so that it would always be on the move, and more difficult for Mativya's enemies to get a hold of.

Giles was able to make his report at the Monday morning briefing. A special task force was assigned to find the amulet, based on a list of possible locations that Giles had provided, and destroy it. Travers congratulated him for a job well done on what turned out to be "a rather tricky case after all." This was cause enough for celebration: another tick in the "Rupert Giles makes up for crimes past/redeems his family name" column. But he just wasn't in the mood.

Now that any chance he had had with Jenny was – apparently – shot to hell (he still wasn't sure how that had happened), Giles allowed himself, briefly, to admit to himself that he was completely enamoured with her. Then he decided that it was all for the best anyways, since she seemed emotionally unstable. It probably had something to do with her being American.

Anyways, when he saw Jenny at the museum on Monday, she seemed highly preoccupied with Harrington, who had made a habit of checking on her often. Not that Giles was keeping an eye on her, of course. He had just happened to see the two of them together several times. All in all, he was doing a fairly good job of ignoring Jenny, as she seemed to be doing for him.

However, by mid-week all this ignoring was something of a mental effort. So when Rodger asked Giles if he'd like to go for drinks after work, it seemed like it would be a welcome distraction. That the bar they went to was in the same restaurant where Giles had taken Jenny the day she was hired didn't help, unfortunately. Furthermore, by "going out for drinks" Rodger had apparently meant, "moping over the fact that the Watchers' Council knows how to kill Mativya and is planning to do just that." As a result, Giles was in the position of making sure that Rodger's somewhat tipsy pining over the vengeance demon didn't get too conspicuous. Hardly the type of distraction he was looking for.

"If you Watchers knew her as I know her," Rodger was saying, his voice a little slurred, "you would see that she is not a thing of evil but a creature of great beauty."

Giles starred into the glass of scotch that he had been nursing since they arrived. "Yes, and all that maiming she does is simply window dressing," he said under his breath. "Anyways, I thought you said you've never met her?"

"Ah! If only I had, if only I had! But I have studied her entire life, every venture and every trial, and if you knew her power, her ingenuity… awe-inspiring…" Rodger sighed. "Indeed, I feel as though I know her within my heart."

Giles looked at his friend askance. "You are a deeply disturbed man." Rodger nodded absently. "This is why they'd never accept you at the Council. Are you completely amoral?"

"I tell you, the only good I know is beauty!" Giles rolled his eyes at Rodger's melodrama. "I do not follow my conscience, but my heart!"

A new voice sounded at the bar. "Sounds like a capital philosophy." Harrington ordered a martini, while Giles cursed his decision to go out in the first place. His superior proceeded to display his usual aptitude for diving into and hijacking any conversation he happened upon. "That's the only way to live, I say: surround yourself with beautiful things. That's what the museum is all about."

"That's odd, I always thought it was about preserving historical artifacts for future generations," Giles commented dryly.

Harrington laughed good-humouredly. "Touché! Still, you must admit that Omphroy has a point."

"Indeed I do!" Rodger interjected.

Harrington continued, "Do you know what your problem is, Giles?"

"I could give you a list," Rodger supplied.

Giles cringed inwardly. The "what's wrong with Giles" topic was bound to come up if he spoke with Harrington long enough, the man simply could not accept that anyone sensible would take issue with his philosophy on life. This was just earlier than expected.

Giles considered answering, "that I don't chase after every skirt like a drunken sailor after a year at sea?" but thought better of it, and let Harrington continue his proselytizing.

"You don't take any pleasure in life. There's a whole world to enjoy – art and music, wine and women – and you just let it pass you by."

"Well, I'm sorry I haven't been a devoted hedonist."

"Not recently anyways," Rodger cut in. His constant commentary was beginning to grate on Giles' nerves. But Harrington didn't pay the remark any mind.

"You say 'hedonist' as though it's something dreadful, as though we're all gluttonous sex-addicts." Harrington took a sip of his martini. "But look at Jenny –"

Giles tensed. He really didn't think he could stand to hear Harrington talk about Jenny the way he talked about most women.

"- I've never known anyone to take a more… _pure_ joy in life. Even Americans. She… she's something else."

_Well, this attitude is certainly new._

"She's a challenge."

_Or maybe not._

"I can't offend that sensibility, you see."

Giles interrupted before he would be forced to hit something. "Harrington, I'm really not interested in hearing about your exploits right now."

To Giles' chagrin, Harrington smiled knowingly. "That's right, Jenny's a friend of yours, isn't she?"

"Just friends, nothing more," Rodger remarked. Giles glared at him.

Harrington continued, "I've been meaning to ask, what happened between the two of you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she used to talk about you all the time. Rather odd thing to do, but there you are. But since the weekend, she hasn't so much as mentioned your name."

This certainly was surprising news. And was it just Giles, or was the light tone of Harrington's voice sounding forced?

"Oh. Well, uh, um, n-nothing's happened."

Rodger snorted. "Typical."

Harrington shrugged. "Seeing as it's you, she must have run out of things to talk about, eh Giles?" He laughed. "Well, just so long as it stays 'nothing' until the spring gala, if you catch my meaning." He grinned rakishly. "I've got a special night planned. Not that I fear the competition!" Harrington laughed again, but he missed Giles' scowl as he glanced at his watch. "Speaking of the gala, I'd best be off. Dinner with the DeVeers, you know. See if I can't get them to change their minds and come after all. Goodnight, gentlemen."

Giles threw back the rest of his scotch, so he didn't notice Marlena enter the restaurant just as Harrington was leaving, nor did he notice the appreciative look that Harrington cast over his shoulder at her.

Rodger noticed his sister's arrival first, even as she sat down besides Giles. "Marlena! How good it is to see you! Come to commiserate with your dear brother?"

"Actually, I was looking for Rupert." She turned towards him with a small smile, as Rodger turned dejectedly back to his drink.

"Is something wrong?" Giles asked with only slight concern. "An army of the undead poised to take over the city? An unstoppable demon attempting to drag the world into Hell?"

Marlena looked at him with a mixture of worry and confusion. "Er, no…"

"Damn."

"I wanted to talk to you before the meeting tonight."

"Yes?"

"I, er, I-I…" Marlena smiled awkwardly. Giles looked at her with a puzzled expression. Though quiet, Marlena was not normally one to stumble over words, and was even know to tease Giles about his stutter at times. "Well, we're both attending the gala next week, aren't we?"

Giles' thoughts immediately turned to Harrington and the "special night" he was planning. "I don't think I'll go."

Marlena's face fell. "Oh… but I thought you had to be there?"

He shrugged. "Not if I'm mortally wounded. Or perhaps if I was arrested…" He looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned his attention back to his fellow Watcher. "Why?"

"Oh," Marlena cast her eyes downwards and started fidgeting with a button on her jacket. Strange behaviour for her. "It's just that I'm going with Rodger, and I thought…"

Giles imagined Marlena at what was supposed to be a sophisticated social event, consigned to the company of her brother. He sighed. "I suppose I'll go too, then."

She raised her eyes hopefully. "Really?"

"Might as well. After all, how bad can it be?"


	8. What A Swell Party This Is

_Author's note:_ The views expressed by the characters are not those of the author.

_Author's note 2:_ I've never been to the British museum. Their website lacks a virtual tour. Hence, the interior that I describe here is entirely made up.

**Chapter Eight  
What A Swell Party This Is**

Dinner was in the statue hall. Most of the pieces had been removed, except for the odd classical figure, which gave the setting a grandiose feel. The dining tables were arranged in a U-shape, with museum faculty and patrons interspersed across it. Harrington and Jenny were seated in the centre of one arm, Giles in the centre of the other. He had rearranged the seating so that Marlena, dressed in a champagne-coloured gown, her hair loose over he bare shoulders, was next to him, while Rodger was in his original spot further down the table. As it was, the two couples had a perfect view of each other.

Giles snuck a look across the hall. Patrons kept rising from their chairs to go speak to Harrington, and to meet his charming escort. And Jenny was being very charming indeed. _At least I'm not the only one to fall victim_, Giles thought, not without a hint of bitterness, as everyone Jenny smiled upon seemed to become instantly enamoured with her. At the reception that had preceded the dinner, Giles had been worried about how she would handle herself in a society that she was totally alien to, being ignorant of both the historiographical debates and the gossip that were sure to dominate the night's discussion. Not worried for her sake, of course, but it would be very embarrassing for Harrington, and for the museum by extension, if he brought some thoughtless, flighty American girl. Luckily, Jenny appeared to be handling herself well. In academic discussions she seemed to be getting by on smiles, attentiveness, and asking the right questions. When it came to gossip... well, she was swiftly becoming the talk of the party herself. From what Giles heard, much of the talk was positive, and what was critical wasn't nearly so venomous as Giles knew London society could be.

Ignoring the sparkling laughter that floated across the hall, Giles turned back to Marlena, whom he feared was not having the best of times. Giles was in nearly as high demand as Harrington, and when pressed he could charm with the best of them. Hence Marlena, always shy, had been somewhat neglected.

"Are you alright?" he asked with concern.

"Yes, quite," she smiled weakly. "I'm having a lovely time."

"You barely said a word when Professor Hunt came over. I thought you were a fan of her work?"

"I'm certain she was more interested in talking to you."

"That's ridiculous," Giles protested, "You're easily the most interesting person here."

She cast her eyes down, doubting, and Giles searched for some way to cheer her up. Something across the hall seemed to catch his attention.

"Oh dear lord, Rodney King is here," he muttered, so that only Marlena could hear.

"Is something wrong with that?"

"Only if I have to talk to him." Marlena looked confused. "Have you read his latest paper?"

"No..."

"It's the shoddiest piece of work ever to pass academic scrutiny," Giles said under his breath. "Reading it, one would think the Russians were the source of European civilization." The slightest hint of a wicked smile curled his lips. "And after meeting Dr. Orlov tonight, I know you'll agree that that simply is not the case."

Marlena looked scandalized.

"Although he is better than his wife," he added.

"Rupert!"

Giles glanced down the table to where Dr. Orlov was sitting. "It appears he left her at home tonight." He leaned towards Marlena and whispered conspiratorily, "He's been working his way through a series of first year Cambridge students. I suppose that's one thing the school is good for."

At this, Marlena laughed aloud, unable to contain either her shock, or her allegiance to Oxford.

Keeping his mouth close to Marlena's ear, Giles glanced around the hall again. "I thought the president would be coming tonight... Oh yes, there he is. Hm. It appears that they've seated all our Irish patrons around him. Serves him right, the ponce."

Marlena let out another scandalized giggle.

Giles turned towards her, suddenly serious. "I must say, Marlena, I'm treribly disappointed. If I had known you to have such a crude sense of humour, I never would have accompanied you tonight."

Marlena was still laughing, and Giles could hardly help but smile back.

"It's a shame Dr. Zabuto couldn't make it tonight, otherwise I could have amused you with something shockingly racist as well." His eyes darted actoss the room. "Oh no, it looks like King is coming this way. Quick, think of something existential to talk about, it'll scare him right off."

As Marlena suppressed another round of laughter and started on about Descartes, Giles watched her fondly. He wondered, in passing, how different his life might have been if he had had a sister like Marlena.

From the other side of the hall, Giles and Marlena looked like anything but brother and sister.

* * *

The dinner was torture. 

The air was thick with the petty rivalries and feuds of the upper classes and academics, wishes that screamed to Mativya to be fulfilled. She forced herself to ignore them, not wanting to betray her presence until her chance to seize Janna arrived.

The girl's joy with being immersed in a world so far removed from her people, with the triumph of "Jenny" over "Janna," disgusted Mativya. It was pathetic. Even more nauseating was that even now, her foolish dreams realized, the girl was still not satisfied. Her gaze kept drifting across the dining hall to where her Watcher friend whispered and laughed with a blonde woman. The couple was pale, watery, nearly lifeless, certainly not worth the attention of a daughter of the Kalderash. Yet Janna envied the blonde, wished to be in her place. Pathetic did not even begin to describe... in Mativya's day she would have been taught proper disdain for the outside world.

No matter. Soon, this horror would end.

* * *

After dinner, the galleries housing the new exhibits were opened for guests to peruse, while in the main hall an open bar had been set up, and a string quartet provided music. Marlena wan't one for dancing, so she sat out, next to one of the columns that circled the hall supporting the vaulted ceiling, while Giles danced with various guests. After about an hour, Giles decided that even his obligation as assistant curator did not excuse him from entertaining his friend, and he returned to Marlena. Giles noticed she had been joined by her brother, whom he had yet to speak to that night. 

"Having a good time, Rodger?" Giles asked as he approached.

"Yes, quite splendid. You seem to be enjoying yourself. Rather in demand as a dancing partner, eh?"

"Professional obligation." He turned to Marlena, who looked rather melancholy. "I do hope you haven't been too bored."

"Oh no, I've enjoyed watching."

"One would hope, given your job description." Rodger sniggered. The two Watchers rolled their eyes.

Marlena nodded towards the dance floor. "I can see why you're so taken with her."

Giles didn't have to look to know whom she was referring to. Jenny stood out in a deep red gown that he guessed was a costume she had appropriated from the dance studio when she was fired. It gave her a look of ageless sophistication, and accentuated the grace of her movements which, combined with her skill and the spirit she put into every step and turn, made her easily the best dancer at the gala. It took no little effort for Giles to avoid being mesmerized by her; as much as he longed to dance with Jenny, he would have been content to simply sit and watch. He wasn't about to admit it, however.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Giles said cooly.

Rodger scoffed. "Come off it, man! You haven't been able to go five minutes without staring at her since dinner ended," he said loudly.

Giles glanced around, embarrassed, to make sure that no one was paying attention.

"He's not wrong," Marlena said, softly.

"Well, what of it?" Giles countered. "I'm not the only one. She has the attention of bloody near every man in the room," his voice was not without a trace of bitterness.

"We're not talking about 'bloody near every man in the room,'" Rodger said, "We're talking about you."

"For God's sake why?"

"Rodger--" Marlena intervened as her brother opened his mouth to respond. She turned to Giles. "I'm sorry. Let's change the subject."

Giles tried to smile gratefully, but was still upset and flustered. He didn't like that the siblings were able to read him so well, nor did he appreciate that they chose to use this uncanny ability to prevent him from burying his feelings under several layers of denial.

There was an awkward silence as the three friends searched for a suitable topic.

"Did you see the exhibit?" Giles finally asked.

"Rupert, I grew up in the same house as the exhibit," Marlena replied, with a hint of a smile.

"Oh. Right..."

Suddenly, she got to her feet. "Let's dance."

Giles looked up at her with surprise, assuming her request to be an effort to cheer him up. "We don't have to if you don't want to."

"No, I-I want to," she replied, looking oddly flushed.

Giles smiled genuinely as he got to his feet, took Marlena's arm, and led her to the dance floor.

Now alone, Rodger looked after them with concern, shook his head, and sighed. "Oh, Marlena..."

* * *

It wasn't only the men at the gala who were keeping an eye on Jenny. 

The vengeance demon moved stealthily among the mingling guests, keeping its distance so as not to be noticed, but staying near enough to Jenny and Harrington to hear what they were saying. Mativya waited and watched for an opportunity to take action, eager to end the spectacle that Janna was making of herself. She was disgusted at how much excitement and pleasure Janna was drawing from this gathering of gadje. But Mativya knew she would get her chance. For underneath the happiness, she could feel the girl's sadness every time she saw her Watcher friend, and a simmering jealousy towards the woman he was with. There was a web of jealousy and bitterness forming, Mativya could feel it, and it was drawing Janna in. Soon she would be ensnared, and then the demon would strike. Till then, she watched, and listened.

"I've finally managed to corner you!" Harrington exclaimed as he smoothly maneuvered Jenny away from Professor Orlov, whom she had just completed a dance with. "I believe you're nearly as popular a dance partner as I am," he grinned rakishly.

"Are you threatened?" Jenny asked wryly.

"Possibly." He led her off the dance floor. "Tell me, is there a man in the room you haven't danced with?"

Jenny caught sight of Giles dancing with that blonde woman he had been whispering with at dinner, and her smile slipped, marginally. "One or two."

Harrington glanced over his shoulder to see who Jenny had been looking at. Irritation passed over his face when he saw that it had been Giles; though he seemed pleased enough to let his gaze linger on Marlena.

He turned back to Jenny with a smile. "Why don't we get some air?"

She nodded and let him lead her towards the balcony.

"Zack?" she asked suddenly, "Does Rupert ever talk about me?"

Harrington blinked, taken off guard. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh..." Jenny hesitated. "No reason. Just suddenly wondered what people say about me." She turned towards her date, putting on a bright expression. "Do you ever talk about me?"

"As a matter of fact..." Reaching the balcony, Harrington held Jenny out at arms length, putting her at a distance at which he could get a proper look at her, and at which she could fully appreciate the dashing figure he cut in his finely tailored tuxedo. He turned to face her. "... yes."

Jenny arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. Why, I was talking about you with Giles just the other day," he said with deliberation.

Jenny maintained an air of only passing interest. "And?"

"Well, I had justg told him that I had invited you to the gala with me," Harrington started, drawing out the story so that he had her full attention.

"What did he say?" Jenny asked, perhaps too eagerly.

"I do believe he was jealous," he said carefully, and watched Jenny for a reaction.

Her casual demeanor faltered. "Really?"

"Mm hm. Didn't seem to care for the idea much at all."

Jenny waited expectantly.

Harrington grinned brashly. "So, I challenged him to a duel!"

Her jaw dropped before she could catch herself. "You didn't!"

He nodded. "I did. It's what we do here in England, you know."

Jenny's expression eased as she realized he was having her on, and she laughed.

Harrington gave her a devilish look and continued. "Offered him his choice of pistols, swords, or fisticuffs; said I was ready to duel to the death for the hand of my fair maiden."

"And then what?" the maiden asked in between giggles.

"Frightened him right off!" Harrington finished proudly.

Jenny smiled fondly at him. "So, you're willing to fight for me?"

"Of course!" he said, stepping towards her. "I would fight for you in a duel. I fought for you on the dance floor." He placed a hand firmly on her waist and drew her close against him, and raised his other hand to caress her cheek and tilt her face towards his. "Though I dearly hope I shan't have to fight for you anymore tonight."

Jenny tensed.

* * *

Giles and Marlena were both laughing by the end of the dance. It had been awkward, but fun. 

"I'll get us some drinks," Giles told his friend as they left the dance floor. Marlena nodded and went to wait for him by one of the columns.

At the bar, a flash of red at the edge of his vision caught Giles' eye, and he remembered seeing Jenny and Harrington going off alone. If she was with anyone else he might have been unconcerned, but after long and storied accounts of the head curator's exploits, Giles knew how he operated, and couldn't help the twinge of worry he felt.

Giles excused himself from the bartender, who was still mixing the cocktails he had ordered, and wandered in the direction he had seen Jenny disappear in, searching for her in the sea of faces while trying to maintain a casual air. The attempt was somewhat sullied when Giles wandered straight into one of the serving staff, causing hors d'ouvres to shower down around his feet. With muttered apologies, and ignoring the stares and muffled laughter around him. Giles continued on his way. It was only a couple of steps before Giles nearly walked into someone else, but he stopped himself just in time.

Giles turned to his would-be victim.

"Oh! Jenny..."

Having found her, he was quite suddenly speechless. Considering the terms on which they had last parted, he could hardly ask her to dance.

And yet she didn't seem upset with him at all. Rather, she was looking up at Giles with a smile more dazzling than he could have imagined.

"Dance with me?" she asked.

* * *

Harrington was rather stunned. It would seem that he had miscalculated. It was difficult for him to understand. 

He reviewed recent events in his head, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. It had seemed that he and Jenny had been on the same page all evening. She had smiled wryly at his more subtle suggestions, and indeed had encouraged his flirtations. Every smiles of hers had seemed so full of promise. But the moment Harrington had intimated something of his intentions for later in the evening, Jenny turned into a nervous teenager, and ran off with a lame excuse.

No, Harrington simply could not see where things had gone so wrong. It seemed there was nothing for it but to get himself a drink and enjoy the rest of the gala as much as he could.

* * *

Marlena swayed slightly on her feet, reliving her recent dance with Rupert. It was turning out to be an absolutely splendid evening. 

"Marlena!" she turned to see her brother heading towards her. "Alone?"

"Oh, no," she said with a smile, "Rupert's just gone to fetch us some drinks."

"Oh..." Rodger started awkwardly. "Er... uh..." He appeared to be trying to maintain a casual demeanor, while searching for a topic of dicussion, but his eyes betrayed him as they flicked towards the dance floor.

She followed his gaze to see Giles dancing with the Jenny girl, both of them seemingly lost in their own world.

Anyone else might not have noticed the change in her expression, but Rodger saw the disappointment in her eyes.

"Marlena..." he started, his voice full of sympathy.

His sister smiled gamely, though it didn't come close to reaching her eyes. "Well, I'll just have to get my own drink, then, won't I?" And with that she turned and all but fled to the bar, leaving Rodger alone, a helpless expression on his face.

Marlena ordered herself a martini and took a seat at the bar, trying not to feel sorry for herself.

"Wonderful party, isn't it?"

She turned to the voice besides her, and for a moment Marlena thought that it was Jenny who spoke, before taking in the fact that the woman besides her was older and dressed in black. Not to mention, she spoke with a strong continental accent, not an American one. The resemblance must have been coincidental.

"Yes, lovely," she answered politely.

"So many happy couples," the dark haired woman continued.

Marlena supposed the woman was drunk to be talking to an utter stranger so. If she was being polite, she should at least introduce herself. But Marlena found that she couldn't be bothered, and didn't really care. "Indeed."

The bartender set a drink before Marlena. She stirred the olive around the glass pensively.

"You aren't here alone, are you?" It seemed that the other woman would insist on talking to her.

Strangely, Marlena felt her normal awkwardness melting away. After all, what was the risk in talking to this stranger, who had no bearing on her life? "I might as well be."

The woman tsked. "You can't mean that your man left you alone?"

Marlena smiled humourlessly. "He's not 'my man'."

"But he came with you here tonight, didn't he?"

She shrugged in reply.

"And where is he now?"

She turned her gaze to the dance floor. "Enjoying more captivating company."

There was a look of recognition in the dark-haired woman's expression. "Ah, a temptress? I know the type. Don't you wish..."

"No," Marlena responded, her eyes remaining on the dancing couple. "I don't think he's been tempted. I think he's in love." She took a hasty sip of her drink, missing the frustration on the other woman's face. "Excuse me."

Marlena left the bar, suddenly feeling the need for some air.

"Marlena!"

She froze at the unfamiliar voice calling her name. She turned, and saw a well-dressed man with dark blond hair and a toothy grin approaching her.

"Marlena Omphroy, isn't it? I know your brother."

"It is. And you're Zachary Harrington?"

"I am indeed." He seemed highly pleased. "I suppose my reputation precedes me?"

She hesitated before answering. "It does..."

He looked at her askance a moment before a light seemed to go on inside his head. "You came here with Giles, didn't you? I hope you don't believe everything he says about me?"

Marlena blushed. "No... Honestly, Rupert does have a tendency to complain a bit much."

Harrington laughed. "Excellent! Well, seeing as we both seem to have been abandoned by our respective partners, what do you say to you and I tripping the light fantastic?"

"Oh... I..." She glanced away, blushing again. "I mean, I'm rather tired... thank you." And with that, she turned and walked towards the balcony.

Harrington stared after her a moment. Shaking his head in a bewildered fashion, he headed towards the bar.

* * *

Mativya was still fuming silently over the blonde woman's refusal to make a wish, when the man who had come to the gala with Janna sat down next to her. He ordered a drink, and turned to her frankly. 

"Tell me, have I suddenly become utterly repulsive?"

The demon raised her eyebrows. "No..." _not suddenly..._

"Then why are women suddenly fleeing from me wherever I turn?" He threw back his drink and ordered another one.

"Poor judgement, perhaps?" Mativya supplied.

"Well, you seem to be an exception, at least," he said flirtatiously.

She smiled flatly. "Don't you wish..."

The man glanced over his shoulder briefly before interupting. "And since when did Giles become the competition? The man's the oldest thirty-something I've ever met." He shook his head and threw back his second drink. "Honestly, it's enough to make me wish that... that... that this museum would fall in on me right now."

* * *

Holding Jenny in his arms, Giles felt ridiculously giddy, and found himself unable to speak, or even to think. Somehow he managed to move his feet in some kind of pattern resembling a dance, while Jenny glanced over her shoulder, as though looking for someone. But then she turned to face him again, and it was as though they were the only two people in the world. 

They simply looked at each other, Jenny seeming just as entranced by Giles' gaze as he was by hers, dancing as though in a dream, everything around them a blur, unimportant. The music changed, became slower. Giles drew her close. Their movements slowed until they were standing alone at the edge of the dance floor, eyes locked on each other. Her lips were so near his own.

"Jenny, I..."

She blushed and turned away.

"Thanks for rescuing me from Zack, Rupert," she said quickly, her voice unusually high. "Jeez! You were right about him!"

Giles stiffened, and drew away from her.

"Is something wrong?" Jenny asked.

Giles wondered how she could ask that. Perhaps she really was heartless. Or just terribly naive.

"I simply assumed, now that you're safe, you would prefer to dance with someone you _do_ want in your life."

Giles was the epitome of politeness, but the look of dismay that came over Jenny's face would have made one think that he had wounded her deeply.

"Oh, Rupert, I didn't mean--"

"Didn't you? You certainly didn't leave much room for interpretation."

"You don't understand."

"So I've been told."

"I-I'm sorry. I am. There's things... in my life... that I can't explain. But I still want us to be friends."

He wanted to throw it in her face, to tell her that being "just freinds" wasn't enough. But her eyes pleaded with him, and her face suddenly appeared so very young. He turned away, his emotions too muddled to reply.

That was when the ceiling caved in.


End file.
